


If I Kissed You Would It Ruin My Chances Of Learning How to Cook?

by EverestV



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, French people can cook, I can't remember where the inspiration came from, can't cook!Cosima, chef!Delphine, i guess?, maybe I watched Ratatouille too many times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9520622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverestV/pseuds/EverestV
Summary: Prompt: “I’m trying to make macaroni but I’ve burnt 3 pans and set off the fire alarm and the old lady across the hall came in to check on me and said you were a chef please help” AU





	

“Come on, Niehaus, come  _ on _ . This shouldn’t be that hard.” Droplets of boiling water nipped at her arm as she poured the contents of the saucepan through a strainer, but by now she had learned to repress her pained yelps. “Every decent human being can make macaroni and cheese,  _ especially _ the boxed kind. This is getting ridiculous.”

Moving back to the stove with the empty saucepan in hand, she read the box’s directions three times over before adding milk, butter, cheese. “You’ve been wanting this for a week now, you’re too broke to just buy it already-made. Let your cravings and shortcomings inspire you.” She glanced down at her phone, flipping through the multiple macaroni recipes she had open. She could  _ swear _ it had just been cooking for a second. But then she smelled smoke.

“Nooo, no, no,  _ dammit. _ ” The pan now held some kind of bubbling, brownish mass that she had a feeling was going to be a huge pain to scrape off. She glared accusingly at the burner knob as she turned it off. “I made  _ sure _ you weren’t too high, asshole. What’s the problem this time? I thought we were on the same side here.”

Cosima grabbed the handle of the saucepan but couldn’t look at the ruined mess for too long. In frustration, she practically threw it in the sink without looking and let cold water run over it. Smoke and steam continued to rise from the saucepan and Cosima counted three seconds before the smoke alarm started losing its shit. She sighed and started to walk over to the chair waiting dutifully in the middle of the hallway before spinning back toward the sink. “No, the macaroni! God _ dammit _ !”

A flurry of panic whipped through her as she slammed the water off and stared at the scattered pieces of pasta lining the sink and struggling to stay in place inside the toppled strainer. Everything was covered in varying amounts of brownish matter, now more watery and disgusting than before. Cosima hung her head and leaned forward until it thudded hollowly against the counter.

“That’s it. That confirms it. The third time is not a charm. I’m not meant to eat today. I can no longer consider myself a decent human being.” The smoke alarm continued in the background and she groaned at a volume to match.

She was surprised she even heard the muffled knocking on the front door.

Walking down the hallway, taking the time to climb up on the chair and give the smoke alarm a punch to shut it up, Cosima pulled up her dreadlocks into a ponytail and answered the door. “Yeah? Oh, hello again, Mrs. Babić.”

“Hello, Miss Cosima.” It was her neighbor from down the hall, a stout elderly woman that had always been dutifully notified in the case that Cosima might hypothetically burn down the building. It usually didn’t account to much since those cases were rare and Cosima often gave up on any and all cooking endeavors pretty early on, therefore not prompting Mrs. Babić to check in with the scatterbrained girl. This time, however... “That’s the third time I’ve heard the smoke alarm tonight. Are you at all thinking about giving up any time soon? By chance?”

Cosima responded by slumping and letting her forehead thud against the doorframe. “I just...I just wanted to make myself macaroni and cheese. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was too much to ask.”

“Posture,” Mrs. Babić scolded and Cosima obediently stood taller while continuing to faceplant the wall. “If you had come by and asked, I would’ve been happy to make it for you, you know. It would have certainly saved me the trouble of getting Dunja to calm down and go back to sleep. Božena wasn’t very appreciative of the noise either.” She was talking about her pets, two degus that Cosima had met a few times and pet-sat only twice. The two made no noise themselves but were evidently easy to disturb.

She groaned softly. “Sorry, sorry, can you tell the girls I apologize? And thanks for your offer,” Cosima leaned back to face her neighbor with a pouting frown. “But it’s macaroni and cheese. From a box. If I can’t make that on my own, then...but would you be willing to teach me instead?”

“Me?” Mrs. Babić laughed, the sound sharp and ringing.  _ That’s never a good sign. _ “No, I think we’re going to need bigger guns than that. What you need is to be on one of those cooking shows on the television, the ones where they take the worst cooks in America and turn them into better ones. Most times, I’m sure, anyway. Depends on how long you last in the competition.”

“Wow, that vote of confidence does wonders to my self-esteem.”

“Oh hush, you know I’m right. You’ve burned four pans to the point where they’ve become unusable.” She shook her head as her hands folded over her chest. “But you know, we might just have the next best thing.”

Cosima looked at her skeptically. “What, a celebrity chef?”

“An up-and-coming one, at least, yes. Have you met Miss Delphine Cormier? I think she lives in the apartment above you.”

“Above and one to the left.”

“Oh. You do know her.”

“Well, uh,” Cosima laughed down at her fidgeting hands, the sound small and forced. Mrs. Babić raised an eyebrow. “Not really. I’ve seen her around. I think she smiled at me once. I’ve never, um,  _ talked _ to her, though. Never knew what to say. I was waiting for an excuse to go up to her, but I haven’t...I don’t know, she’s kinda intimidating.” she glanced up in a slight panic, as if realizing what she said. “Er, mostly because she’s, like,  _ way _ taller than me, you know? Not because she’s really— I mean, it’s not that she makes me nervous or anything. Um. She’s a cook?”

Mrs. Babić looked at her with a sympathetic, knowing smile. “She is. She was telling me she had just recently been hired at this very popular, high-end restaurant downtown and seemed very excited about it, going on and on about how this could be a turning point in her career. She’s very polite and considerate, that girl, but if you’re so worried about it, I wouldn’t mind introducing you two.” Looking Cosima up and down, Mrs. Babić hummed softly. “Just maybe not in those clothes. First impressions are very important, you know.”

Cosima took a moment to glance down at her drooping cardigan and ruffled sweatpants. “Point taken. I’ll be just a second.”

\---

Standing outside the door, listening to an accented voice call “One moment!” like ringing bells, fidgeting with her new outfit and cleaning her glasses a second time and bouncing on her toes, Cosima didn’t even feel hungry anymore. Her stomach felt too cluttered for food, she just wanted water, or anything, really, to make her throat stop feeling so dry. Wine would be nice.

Mrs. Babić placed an insistent hand over Cosima’s wrist. “Calm down, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re always so good at meeting new people, just act as if this is nothing different.”

“Right. Okay.”  _ Everything about this is different, are you kidding? _ “I’m fine. I’ll be—”

The door opened.  _ Can someone be prettier than your mind’s already exaggerated version of them? Apparently. Holy shit, what am I getting myself into? _ “Good evening, Mrs. Babić. What can I do for you?”

“Good evening, Miss Delphine. I was hoping you could do me a favor; my neighbor, here, would be very appreciative if you do.”

Cosima was very tempted to jab an elbow into the old lady’s side.

“Oh, of course, what is it?”

“Well, you have probably heard her several attempts at cooking tonight, I assume. I’m sure we all have.”

“The, ehm, smoke detectors going off?” Delphine gave Cosima a slight, apologetic smile. “I did happen to notice, yes. Is everything alright?”

“Not her cooking skills, certainly.” she laughed, Delphine chuckled dutifully, Cosima was mortified. “We were hoping you could help her, maybe walk her through a simple dish or two. That is, if you weren’t busy tonight.”

Delphine shook her head, wearing a polite smile like it wasn’t just a formality, but a small kind of privilege. Cosima tried to focus on that instead of her neighbor that referred to her like a little kid that wasn’t in the room. “No, I’d be happy to help. I don’t think I caught your name, though?”

“Cosima.” the girl coughed out, ignoring the side-eye Mrs. Babić gave her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Delphine, enchanté.” The two shook hands, one hoping she wore an easy, unaffected the smile even though she felt like melting at the accented fluidity of that name said aloud while the other hoped her fingers weren’t too shockingly cold, as most people seemed to complain, though quickly found the other girl’s hand to be warm enough for the two of them. “Eh, ehm, please come in and we can get started. Would you like to stay as well, Mrs. Babić?”

The old lady looked more pleased than the situation realistically called for and Cosima wanted to walk straight out and down the stairs, back to her apartment, right now. “No, no, you go on by yourselves. Have a nice, educational night, you two.”

“Yes, we will, good night.” Delphine waved and closed the door while Cosima glanced around the relatively bare apartment, trying to fill in some color among the sharp lines of the furniture and subdued grays of the walls. Soft music in an unrecognizable language filtered from one of the rooms.

“You, uh, you’ve got a nice place,” was the only thing she could come up that didn’t sound totally idiotic.

“No, I know it’s pretty boring. There’s not much to the place and I don’t have a real excuse for it either. I didn’t move in recently or anything like that.” Delphine smiled and shrugged. “But you can take your shoes off there, if you’d like.”

Cosima followed where she pointed and did so, feeling Delphine’s eyes trained curiously at her back. “Nah, though, I mean it, I totally do. It’s very simple, very, um...clean, you know? Refined. Simple, I don’t know. Suits you, I think.”

“Well, thank you. I’m glad my new pupil is at least overly polite.” Delphine smiled teasingly at her as she went over to the sink and washed her hands. Cosima did the same once she was done.

“Sorry, am I overdoing that one compliment?”

“Just a bit.” Delphine handed her a dish towel, their fingers touched, shivers went down Cosima’s back, it was straight out of a goddamn movie.  _ Shit on a stick, Niehaus, get it together.  _ “Did you have an idea of what you wanted to learn?”

“Um...well...promise you won’t laugh?”

Delphine raised an eye and leaned back against the counter. Cosima was making a strenuous effort not to stare at her legs, legs for days. “I suppose? Is it at least somewhat practical for us to—”

“Mac and cheese.”

“Mac and...?”

“Yeah.”

“Prepared how, exactly? Baked, or—”

“Out of the box.”

“Out of the box?”

“Yeah.”

There was a weighted pause between them.

“Don’t the boxes have instructions on the back?”

“They do. We don’t have to talk about the particulars.”

Somehow, Cosima managed to endure Delphine’s stare—a soft mixture of disbelief, concern, and trying desperately to hold back a laugh—even though it made her heartbeat a suddenly tangible presence that throbbed down her fingers. “Well, for such a serious request, we have our work cut out for us. We should probably get started right away.”

“Probably.”

“I should have all the ingredients we might need, but we still need to pick up a box or two from your apartment before we— “

“I kinda used them all.”

“All?”

Cosima stared down at her hands. “Kinda bought, like, seven as a precaution. Kinda have none left now.”

“ _ Merde _ ,” Delphine laughed, though to her credit it was a small, innocent one. “Do you mind if we take my car to the store, then?”

“Don’t have a car, so no. I don’t mind. But, uh, you don’t regret doing this, do you? Totally understandable if you do, really, I just...”

“Non, non.” Delphine fixed her with a mischievous smile, flickering and alive like a child’s, and Cosima had a strange urge to steal a motorcycle or something as equally frowned upon, just for kicks, just to feel her heart race for the thrill of it, just to see that smile again. “It’s my pleasure. An adventure in the name of simple pasta dishes everywhere. Or something like that. Sorry I had you take off your shoes, let me just get my keys.”

“Yeah, sure, no prob.” Cosima waited until Delphine disappeared behind a closed door before letting out deep, laughing breath. “Ohhh shit, what am I doing?” she whispered to herself as she went to put her shoes back on. “I’m not gonna be able to focus on cooking, she’s too pretty for that. And sweet. And her voice is so...dammit, is it too late to say I’m not even hungry anymore?”


End file.
